


Forget-Me-Not

by parasolghost



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1386004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parasolghost/pseuds/parasolghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is a story that happened once upon a time about the spirit of winter who fell in love with a mortal boy who worked in his family's flower shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget-Me-Not

The town of Berk, which was nestled right between Nothing-ville and Empty-town, was an odd one. It was the home of generations of Viking immigrants and was a bit antiquated. Its inhabitants were big and had voices that boomed through the streets. Their shops were locally owned and small and their businesses were slow. The roads and sidewalks were unkempt and covered in uneven gravel and potholes. The houses were creaky and brown and their lawns were more yellow than they were green. It was a wonder why the people who inhabited Berk didn’t move, but there they were after decades, just as stubborn as ever. And, unfortunately for them, they had the honor of living in one of Jack Frost’s favorite places to visit.

As every winter came along, the winter spirit hopped from the rooftops and smiled mischievously as he dumped heaps of snow on an unexpected passerby. He’d fill the streets and roads with his snow and watched with triumph as children cheered at the sight of his snowflakes and the adults groaned. He was the culprit behind the cold-burn that nipped people’s noses and ran over their necks. He’d freeze pipes and draw on frosted windows; he’d throw snowballs and wreck havoc and listen to the snow crunch between his toes—and he’d do this every time he stopped by until it was time to leave.

Every once in a while, he’d stop by the flower shop on the corner. Jack had always thought it was rather odd that someone would set up one in a place known for its barrenness and lack of luster. Nevertheless, there it was—a small shop under an apartment called “Berk Blooms” owned by generations of a family of large, lumbering men called the Haddocks, who, despite their booming voices, stomping feet, and ability to heave five bags of fertilizer over their shoulders, had quite a way with flowers and a hereditary green thumb. It was quite fascinating to Jack, really, watching as the stumbled around the store in their overalls, as he sprinkled snow onto the flowers they had set outside to watch them come out and shout at nothing as they tried to brush the frost off of the petals.

However, one day, when Jack had landed in Berk on a lamp post situated on the corner in front of Berk Blooms, he saw “Stoick” Haddock’s wife, a handsome woman with a sharp wit and a gentle touch, shuffled out in front of the shop. She brushed the frost off of the leaves gently and cursed the falling snow as it piled on the streets, her son clutching tightly at the hem of her shirt, staring at the snowfall with a curious expression as it fell at his feet. Jack watched as the little boy scrunched up his nose before letting out a sneeze violent enough to send him falling onto his bottom.

“Careful, Hiccup,” his mother said as Jack soared closer to them before landing just by the shop. The boy wiped his nose with a gloved hand and she pulled his hat over his ears. “You don’t want Jack Frost nipping at your nose now, do you?”

Hiccup blinked, his green eyes huge with curiosity. “Who’s Jack Frost?”

She gave him a smile as she helped him to his feet and Jack sighed, turning on his heel and just unwilling to listen to people listing him off as a mere expression.

“Jack Frost is a tricky little spirit who brings snow every year.”

Jack stopped in his tracks and whirled around, his blue eyes wide and his head tilted.

“He comes every winter,” his mother continued in a playful tone, “and he flies around freezing the roads and putting the snow on the trees and leaves and draws pretty pictures on the window.” she said, smiling as her son watched her wide gestures with a look of awe. “But if you’re not all bundled up and warm, he’ll play a funny little prank where he comes right up to you,” she lowered her voice and bent down, “and nip your little nose,” she said, giving Hiccup a quick peck on the nose as the little six-year-old giggled, rubbing his bulbous nose.

The winter spirit blinked in wonder and curiosity as she began to regale her son with tales of the mischievous Jack Frost, his eyes wide with surprise and glee. Hiccup’s expression mirrored Jack’s as his bright green eyes followed his mothers wide hand gestures and stories.

“…And can you guess what Jack Frost did?” the mother asked her son, who shook his head eagerly. “Well, when the Easter Bunny wasn’t looking, he snuck up behind him and froze _everything_.”

“Everything?” the young boy repeated in childish awe.

“ _Everything_ ,” she said. “It was the coldest and slipperiest Easter ever and everyone was too cold to go out and find eggs. The Easter Bunny was so mad that he hopped around, chasing little Jack Frost. But Jack was quick and he got away, teasing the Bunny every step of the way.”

Hiccup dissolved into fits of giggles and Jack looked on with a bright smile.

“True story,” he added, leaning on his staff.

Suddenly, the little boy stopped laughing and looked around in utter confusion as his mother tended to the last of the plants sitting aside the store. His large green eyes finally rested on the white-haired spirit and he tilted his head.

Jack felt his breath hitch and time stood still for just a moment. He stepped closer to the little boy, his eyebrows knit together in confusion as he tentatively raised a hand in greeting.

And young Hiccup, the little boy with forest green eyes and a constellation of freckles spread upon his round face, raised his tiny hand and waved back.

Jack’s eyes bulged and his jaw fell open in shock. His words were caught in his throat and he was torn between the urge to leap with joy and cry. However, when he finally composed himself, the corners of his eyes wrinkled and a smile spread across his face as the words slipped from his lips:

“You can see me.”

* * *

Over time, the spritely winter spirit and the little boy whose parents owned the flower shop on the corner, forged a bond during the winters when Jack would visit. He’d throw snowballs at the little boy, who used to laugh and throw them back. They talked and Jack would tell Hiccup stories of faraway lands as Hiccup showed Jack his books and the contraptions he had built around the store. They were comforts to each other—the spirit of winter who was seen by no one and the little boy who was too different to make friends, and while Hiccup kept Jack company during his visits, Jack made sure Berk Blooms’ flora never saw the harshness of the ice and snow.

And one day, when Jack had returned to Berk to see Hiccup standing at the cash register in the flower shop, he began to realize that the little boy, although still little, was becoming less of boy and more of a young man and, at the moment, Jack Frost was not quite sure how he felt about that. So, for the time being, he just tapped lightly on the window to get Hiccup’s attention.

“Well, hello there, Hiccup,” Jack sang as Hiccup held the door open for him. “It’s been a long year—did you miss me?”

Hiccup snorted as he returned to his original post, Jack floating eagerly behind him. “Who, me? Please, I got so much more work done without you messing with my contraptions and throwing snowballs at my window, Frostbite.”

Jack held a hand over his heart and gave him an expression of mock pain. “Oh, Hiccup, how you wound me so,” he said, perching himself on top of the counter. “You used to be such a good kid—so innocent and kind-hearted, what happened?”

Hiccup frowned at him. “Well, I’m not a kid anymore, am I?”

“Hiccup, you’re sixteen,” Jack said, shaking his head, “much too young to be going through your rebellious phase.”

Hiccup frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in what looked like frustration. He brushed his hair out of his eyes to give Jack a stern glare. “I’m about the same age as you.”

“I’m three hundred years old.”

“Well, you _look_ seventeen,” Hiccup countered with a pout that Jack could not help but find adorable. “Either way, I mean you don’t _have_ to treat me like a kid anymore.”

 “I know, I know,” Jack chuckled, leaning forward to jab Hiccup in his bulbous, freckled nose. “I’m just teasing you, Hic.”

A flush of pink tinged Hiccup’s cheeks and he looked down sheepishly. “I-I know that,” he said stubbornly, his eyes falling back down on the book in front of him.

Jack felt his spirits fall, confused at the rather dejected look on Hiccup’s face. It had been like this lately (and by lately, he meant for the past two years). Their conversations would drift off into a horrible silence and Hiccup would avoid his eyes, which would disappoint Jack greatly because he loved it when he could get a glimpse of Hiccup’s bright eyes as they spoke. Quite frankly, it puzzled Jack to the point where he lay awake wondering about it (not that he really needed much sleep at all anyway) and it opened up the possibility that, maybe, the boy was losing interest in the winter spirit—maybe Hiccup was starting to write him off as a figment of his childhood imagination. This was something that scared Jack more than anything because after ten years together, even though he had spent 300 years by himself, he could no longer imagine life without the freckled boy from the flower shop.

However, there was something in the back of Jack’s mind that prevented him from pressing the subject—some anxiety or fear of rejection that he could not quite reason with, so he just leaned over and stared at the pages of Hiccup’s book.

 “Good book?” Jack asked.

 “It’s decent enough,” Hiccup said with a shrug, turning the page. “It’s a guide about the language of flowers—my dad’s making me read it so I can help out with the shop more.”

Jack tilted his head, hopping off the counter and onto the other side so that he was peering at Hiccup’s book upside down. “Flower language? You mean like sending coded messages with flowers?”

Hiccup finally smiled and chuckled and Jack’s heart skipped a beat. “I wish,” Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Honestly, it’s more boring than that—it’s just like the colors of roses have different meanings or daisies mean innocence or forget-me-nots mean—well, that’s pretty self explanatory.” Hiccup shrugged and flipped the page. “It’s honestly not all that interesting—you probably don’t want to hear about it.”

Jack, however, disagreed. Somehow, he didn’t really care that flower language seemed like a rather dull subject for the hopelessly romantic or that he’d honestly rather be having a snowball fight or planning an elaborate prank that involved water balloons and the cold. For some odd reason that Jack could not quite place (or more like he was denying vehemently), he felt that he could listen to Hiccup drone on for hours and that would be good enough for him.

So Jack gave Hiccup a shrug. “No, it sounds pretty cool actually,” Jack said with a grin. “Now tell me how I can call you a nerd using flowers.”

Hiccup scoffed at him and leaned forward to flick the winter spirit’s forehead. “Yeah sure—as soon as I can learn how to call you a jackass.”

Jack held a hand over his heart, “Oh, Hiccup, you wound me.”

Hiccup laughed and pushed Jack away playfully. “Only doing my job,” he said.

And so, life continued as usual—or as “usual” as it could be. Hiccup continued to work in the flower shop and eventually his parents decided he was capable of running the shop on his own during the weekends. He still continued to invent new ways to water the plants and care for the flora while Jack kept an eye out for new customers. Oddly enough, the one to remember most of the flower language was Jack Frost himself, who had to be careful not to freeze the petals as he helped Hiccup prepare a bouquet for customers. On Hiccup’s off hours, when he didn’t have to worry about school or the shop, Jack would drag him out to the snow and they’d joke around and play.

However, despite their joking and Jack’s teasing and Hiccup’s snide retaliation, there was still a sort of aura that lingered around them like a ghost. It was something that showed itself in the awkward silences when their hands brushed; a brick wall that prevented them from sitting too close or sharing a hug and a feeling that stayed when Jack breached the boundary ever so momentarily to mess up Hiccup’s hair.

After a month had come and gone, with both of them keeping a respectable distance from each other, Jack began to feel rather sad—he had begun to realize that there was nothing he missed more than enveloping Hiccup in a tight hug. Jack began to wonder if he had always liked the smell of dirt and metal or if he just loved it because it clung to Hiccup’s clothes. He wondered if his green eyes were always _that_ beautiful or if his smile was always that wonderful. He questioned if he had always found the freckles that dappled his face that interesting or if he had always thought Hiccup’s rambling adorable and he was starting to think about how nice it would be to touch his lips.

In short, Jack Frost had fallen in love.

It was funny—he had always thought falling in love would be a lot more interesting. Jack wouldn’t exactly say that he was a romantic person, but he had always thought there would be something more to it. It was always such a big deal in fairytales and movies that Jack had always had expectations. Yet, at the moment of his realization there was nothing—no fireworks, no singing angels, no chocolates or in-the-moment kisses. In fact, all it left the poor winter spirit with was a sinking feeling in his chest and a never ending supply of frustration.

Although, to be completely fair, he was surrounded by flowers though, so he supposed that was one thing he could check off the romantic trope list.

Either way, Jack had found himself at a loss, and as February approached and the shop was filled with pinks, reds, and whites in preparation for the last-minute Valentine’s Day rush, Jack’s confusion never sorted itself out as he had hoped. In fact, as the shop became busier and Valentine’s Day came closer, Jack found himself yearning for Hiccup even more as the boy found himself busy with the shop.

When Hiccup had finally found some free time to hang out with Jack, Jack decided there was only one way to get over his hopeless crush.

“So,” Jack said, mocking curiosity as he nudged Hiccup’s shoulder as the auburn-haired boy did his homework, “Valentine’s Day’s coming up,” he hummed.

“Really?” Hiccup smiled and rolled his eyes. “I haven’t noticed at all.”

“Don’t be a smart ass, Hic,” Jack teased, leaning in close so that his face was just inches away from Hiccup’s. “There’s a special someone you’re pining after isn’t there?”

Hiccup flinched so badly that he almost knocked Jack over as he whirled around in his seat, his face flushed as he ran a hand through his hair, avoiding Jack’s eyes. “W-what, who, me?” Hiccup stuttered, wiping his palms on his pants. “Me? H-have a ‘special someone’? You’re delusional.”

Jack stared at Hiccup with mild amusement mixed with a bit of heartache. To be honest, the last thing he wanted to hear was more about Hiccup’s blatantly obvious crush, but Jack persisted anyway, somehow managing to keep a wide and mischievous grin on his face as he hopped next to Hiccup and nudged his shoulder.

“Well, who is it, lover boy?” Jack said. “Spill the beans.”

“It’s no one, Jack,” Hiccup replied as Jack continued to pester him.

“Just tell me,” Jack whined childishly. “I mean, who am I gonna tell—you’re the only one who can see me anyway.”

Hiccup sighed and pushed Jack, who was swatting Hiccup’s hair insistently, away from him. “Look, it doesn’t even matter—it’s not like anyone would be interested in me anyway.”

Jack heart tore at the disappointed expression on Hiccup’s face. The only thing that Jack found more heartbreaking than his own unrequited love was to see Hiccup so unhappy. Jack’s smile softened a bit and he leaned against his staff.

“C’mon, Hic,” Jack said. “Where’s your sense of youthly spirit?”

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless. “You sound like an old man,” he said, the sound of his laughter a sweet melody to Jack’s ears.

“I’m three hundred years old, Hiccup,” Jack pointed out. “I am an old man.”

“Alright then, why is an old geezer bothering about my romantic life,” Hiccup said, turning back to his desk. “Don’t you have some oatmeal to eat or something.”

“Aw, c’mon, Hiccup,” Jack said. “Can I guess?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’m gonna guess,” Jack said anyway, using Hiccup’s head as an arm rest. “Is she tall?”

Hiccup heaved a heavy sigh. “Jack—“

“Short? Medium height?”

“Jack, I don’t—“

“Have I seen her before?” Jack continued. “Has she come to the shop before?”

“Jack—“

“No wait,” Jack said, removing his arm from Hiccup’s head and leaning against the desk. “Does she go to your school? She probably does, right? That’s what kids these days do.”

“Jack, you—“

“Is it that one girl?” Jack continued. “Y’know—blonde hair in a braid? She’s pretty cool. I could see why--”

“ _Jack!_ ”

Jack froze midsentence, his eyes wide with shock at the obvious irritation on Hiccup’s face. The younger boy sighed and ran a hand through his hair again, something that Jack noticed he did when he was unsure or irritated.

“Jack,” he repeated more calmly. “I’ll just tell you, alright? Then, will you be happy?”

_No_ , Jack thought.

“Absolutely,” Jack said instead, nodding excitedly.

Hiccup took a deep breath and looked down at his knees. He folded his hands together and bit his lip, muttering something inaudible.

Jack blinked. “Wait, what?’ he asked.

“Look, I—uh,” the auburn haired boy scratched his head. “Okay, like what if it— _maybe_ it’s, I don’t know, uh,” Hiccup looked up at Jack from his seat, rubbing his arm. “What if it’s you?”

Jack stared blankly at Hiccup, the other boy’s words running in his head as he tried to find the right words to say. Time stopped for just that split second and Jack could feel his heart pounding so hard that it might hop right out of his chest.

“A-are you serious?” Jack finally managed to wheeze.

“I’m speaking hypothetically,” Hiccup said quickly, his cheeks turning a bright red as he played with his thumbs, “…hypothetically.”

“So,” Jack said hesitantly, “you want to know what I would think if you hypothetically liked me?”

“If I hypothetically asked you what you would think if I hypothetically liked you,” Hiccup corrected him, lowering his head in embarrassment.

Although Jack’s face remained relatively neutral, every corner of his mind was filled with internal cheering and celebration. He could feel metaphorical roses blooming and he felt so warm that it was probably enough to melt the bed of snow that he lay upon Berk.

Ah yes, there were the fireworks.

“Well. I’d be really happy,” Jack said, his face turning red as he grinned. “Nothing hypothetical about that.”

Hiccup gave Jack a confused look. “What?”

“I mean,” Jack scratched his head sheepishly, fully aware that he was smiling like a moron, “I guess another way to say this is, I like you, too?”

When Jack looked up to meet Hiccup’s green eyes, the freckled teen’s expression of embarrassment and shyness had disappeared completely to be replaced with a look of pure joy. The corner of his lips tilted up in a small smile that evolved into a wide grin filled with adorable crooked teeth and his eyes lit up.

For Jack and Hiccup, winter was warmer that year.

* * *

The spirit of winter and the boy from the flower shop enjoyed a relationship filled with love and yearning and suddenly the seasons apart seemed so much longer. The townspeople of Berk began to notice an earlier and longer winter, much to their chagrin, which they chalked up to global warming and environmental hazards. Of course, Jack knew he should probably be more subtle, every time he returned to Berk and greeted Hiccup with the warmest hug he could offer and pressed kisses everywhere he could on the freckled boy’s bony body, he figured he had held off for long enough and the people of Berk could deal with an extra month of snow.

It had been five years since the first time the two boys shared their first kiss and Hiccup Haddock was now twenty-one years old—a fully fledged adult. Jack Frost had been hopping from rooftop to rooftop excitedly, flying through the air as fast as he could to get back to Berk. Jack was a bit late this time, as duty called and told him winter would last a little longer in the southern hemisphere. So he had been more excited than ever to see Hiccup again. It was only two years ago when Jack began to notice that Hiccup was growing just ever so slightly taller—maybe even to the point where he was slightly taller than Jack by now.

The thought of seeing Hiccup again and catching up on all the changes in their lives filled Jack with excitement that rivaled no other as he finally arrived at the flower shop on the corner. He soared up to the window to see Hiccup leaning over the countertop and reading a book—just like he was five years ago.

A bright smile rose to Jack’s face as he tapped on the glass excitedly. “Guess who,” he said cheerily as he waited for Hiccup to look up and let him in.

However, Hiccup didn’t even flinch, let alone acknowledge his presence. The auburn-haired young man just flipped a page in his book, and drummed his fingers against the countertop.

Jack smile faltered for a second and he laughed. “Hiccup,” he repeated, tapping the glass repeatedly. When there was no response, the laughter became uneasy. “H-Hiccup?” he stammered, knocking relentlessly. “I know you’re mad at me for being late, b-but this is a little ridiculous,” Jack said, his voice strained and his eyebrows furrowed.

There was still no response—not even an eye roll or some sort of snarky comeback. The glass wasn’t that thick, so Hiccup should have been able to hear him.

Maybe he was listening to music, Jack had reasoned and hoped. Maybe he was just really into his book or thinking hard about something. Yeah, that was it.

Jack’s worries were interrupted when he heard the bell on top of the door chimed as a man entered the shop. Jack took this chance to slip through the opening before the door closed.

Hiccup looked up, giving the man his signature “greet-the-customer” smile, giving Jack no sign of recognition or acknowledgement.

“Hello,” he said instead, “is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah, actually, my girlfriend is moving pretty far away for work and I wanted to get her some flowers,” the man answered. “I need something that says that I’m happy for her, but I’ll miss her—do you think you could help me with that?”

“Oh, yeah, I think I can help you with that,” Hiccup said, walking out from behind the counter and leading the customer towards the aisles of flowers that filled the shop. “I’m not an expert with arrangement—you’ll want my dad for that, but I’ve been studying flower language for a while now.”

“Hiccup?” Jack called meekly.

“Well, for one thing, you’re going to want red roses,” Hiccup said as he led the man around the store. “Roses are a classic because, as you probably know, they symbolize love.”

“This isn’t funny anymore, Hiccup,” Jack said, his voice cracking as he followed the two to the next aisle.

“If you want to be really honest and romantic, a primrose could work pretty well, too,” Hiccup continued without any heed to the winter spirit giving him a desperate look. “If I remember correctly, primroses mean ‘I can’t live without you,’ so I think that’ll work pretty well.”

“Hiccup,” Jack repeated, his chest aching with every syllable that fell from his lips. He stood helplessly where they left him as they moved onto the next recommendation. “Hiccup, please don’t ignore me.”

“If you’re really dedicated to this bouquet, then I think it’s safe to suggest a pink camellia for longing,” Hiccup added as he walked, “or a red carnation for ‘my heart aches for you.’”

Jack flew towards them, standing in their path, his eyes pleading and his voice desperate. “Hiccup, don’t do this to me,” he said as tears began to form in his eyes. “Hiccup!”

Suddenly, Jack felt a jolt tear through his body as Hiccup and his customer passed right through him, neither of them stopping nor flinching in their path while Jack felt like his whole world was crumbling. Jack clutched the fabric of his hoodie at his chest as the tears began to pour from his eyes like raindrops and bit his lip to stop a sob from escaping his mouth.

“And I guess, while you’re at it,” Hiccup added. “You should add some cyclamen to your bouquet, too.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well,” Hiccup scratched his head, “I think it means ‘good-bye.’”

_Good-bye._

The words rang in Jack’s head like a bell and echoed like a voice calling in a cave. The tears stopped and Jack wiped his eyes. He looked at Hiccup as he spoke to his customer, a smile on his face and his back straight. Jack noted how Hiccup had grown tall—just as tall as Jack had thought and wondered about how Hiccup would have reacted to knowing that he was finally taller than the spirit of winter. He noticed how the freckles that had once been spread across Hiccup’s face had begun to fade and thought about how few kisses Jack would have pressed on the other’s skin before he had found them all. Jack saw how the smooth, small hands of a child had become the large and calloused hands of an adult who labored away in his work and inventions that littered the shop so Jack pondered how it would feel to take them in his own and revel in the warmth and comfort as Hiccup talked for days on end to him about how each device worked.

Then, Jack realized that Hiccup was not a child anymore. And just as children outgrow toys, crushes, clothes, and imaginary friends, Hiccup had outgrown Jack.

He had been lucky, he reasoned through his heartache and pain, that he was able to spend all this time with Hiccup in the first place—to be fortunate enough to love him and be loved by him, to have someone to keep him company and to share hugs and kisses for five winters. Maybe that was enough.

The doorbell over Berk Bloom’s door rang and the door swung shut. The young shop attendant, who was ringing up the customer for a bouquet that he had just assembled, looked towards the door, puzzled as no one had left nor entered the store. His attention fell to a bouquet dark pink roses and blue forget-me-nots that sat in a vase by the door. He didn’t remember those sitting there this morning when he was cleaning up the shop or when he had unlocked the door. Nevertheless, he felt a pang of nostalgia grip his heart like a splinter he couldn’t remove. A voice in the back of his mind that he couldn’t place begged him to remember.

_Remember what?_ Hiccup wondered.

“This is all perfect—thank you,” the customer said, pulling Hiccup away from his musings. “But there’s a lot of red and pink in this. Do you think you could add any contrasting colors.”

Hiccup tilted his head, gazing at the vase near the door past the customer. “How about forget-me-nots?”

* * *

Berk—a town of Viking heritage with an air of “nothing that special” around it. However, it _was_ famous for being a cheap tourist spot right next to the big city and for a story that spread through the locals like a wildfire about the flower shop on the corner.

Hiccup Haddock had grown up to be a handsome and intelligent man. When his parents had grown old and Hiccup was no longer a young man, he took over the shop, filling it with inventions to water the plants and open the sunroof for the flowers. Despite the popularity he had gained in his adulthood, Hiccup Haddock never married and never dated, telling his friends that some hopelessly romantic part of him told him that there was someone waiting for him. Instead, Haddock adopted a large black cat named Toothless that kept him company during the slow hours and slept under the shade of the flower bushes.

When Hiccup had aged to forty and found that he couldn’t take care of the shop by himself, he began to hire new employees, which is when they discovered something rather odd that had been happening to Hiccup ever since his twenty-first winter: every year during the first snowfall of the season, without fail, an anonymous bouquet of flowers was set in front of Berk Bloom’s front door, surrounded by a miraculous halo of dry earth among the snowy streets. The bouquet of flowers differed slightly each year with different flowers like daffodils or violets or tulips, but what was consistent were the forget-me-nots included in each bunch.

Berk Bloom’s employees tried for years to track down who Hiccup’s mystery admirer was—they stared at the front door for hours, camped out in the store as the snow began to fall, peering through the glass windows with great diligence and dedication. However, each time, as soon as one of them blinked or sneezed or looked a way for a moment’s notice due to a sudden burst of cold air that swept by Berk Blooms’ curious employees, there would be another bouquet of flowers in a dry spot in front of the door addressed to Hiccup Haddock.

The employees would stare with open-mouth shock as Hiccup opened the door and picked up the bouquet with a wistful smile. “Striped carnations this time, huh?” he said once, placing the bouquet in a vase by the door and staring at it, scratching his chin, before opening the shop for business.

These annual mysterious gifts continued forever after, even as employees began to give up on their wondering and Hiccup began to think about who was going to manage the shop when he was to retired eventually.

One day, when much time had passed and young, scrawny Hiccup Haddock had become old, he fell ill and was bedridden in his apartment above the flower shop. Although his condition was serious and Hiccup had started to become forgetful, he was able to advise the flower shop when they needed him. With all his free time lying around in bed, he had reverted to his youth’s hobby of inventing and reading, musing over fairytales and books, asking everyone who visited how long it would be until winter. In a way, he had become like a child once again.

Winter came just as it always had and Berk was ready for the snowfall to begin. This year, however, the snow had to take care of some business of its own.

Hiccup was sitting up in his bed, looking expectantly at the window when it suddenly creaked open. A pale young man with hair as white as snow and blue eyes as cold as ice hopped into the room holding a Shepherd’s crook in one hand and a bouquet of sweet pea flowers and forget-me-nots in the other. When the white-haired young man saw Hiccup giving him a small crooked smile that he happened to love so much, his eyes widened.

“So it was you all along, Jack?” Hiccup said, wheezing with laughter. “I should’ve known it would be you to do something so cheesy.”

Jack’s jaw fell open. “You can see me?” he asked, stepping closer to the old man’s bedside.

Hiccup snorted and rolled his eyes. “I may be an old man, but I’m not blind,’ he said. “Besides, you’re still older than me by a couple hundred years anyway.”

Jack shook his head. “N-no, I mean—“

“I’m joking, Jack,” Hiccup said, his expression softening. “I know what you’re talking about.”

Jack set his staff against the bed frame and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But, you’re definitely not a kid anymore—“

“Thanks for pointing that out,” Hiccup scoffed.

“How can  you see me?” Jack asked.

“Who knows,” Hiccup shrugged, yawning. “All I’m sure of is that I don’t have a lot of time left, Jack.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he put his hands on the bed. “W-wait, you can finally see me again!” he said, biting back tears. “You can’t leave me again, Hic! I can’t lose you again!”

Hiccup gave Jack an apologetic look and raised a gnarly, calloused hand to Jack, who flinched at his lover’s touch. “I’m not going anywhere,” Hiccup said. “I’ll always be right here—just like you were always there for me.”

Jack opened his mouth—he dared himself to object, to cry, to leave while he still could. But deep in his heart, he knew he couldn’t and he wouldn’t. He curled his fingers around Hiccup’s and set the bouquet at his side. “I know,” he said, his voice cracking.

Hiccup yawned. “Well, I’m beat after a day of doing nothing,” he said. “Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?”

Jack bit his lip, nodding. “I-I promise.”

“Good,” Hiccup said, closing his eyes. His breathing began to slow and his hand began to slack in Jack’s grasp. The room was absolutely silent—too silent for Jack to handle, but he stayed, his eyes fixated on Hiccup’s peaceful face.

“H-Hiccup?” he stammered hesitantly. To his relief, Hiccup opened one eye and tilted his head slightly. “I love you,” Jack said, his tears falling onto his their joined hands and his voice strained as he cried. “I love you so much.”

Hiccup smiled and closed his eyes. “I love you, too, Frostbite.”

Hours passed and Hiccup had finally exhaled his last slow breath. The next morning, when those from Berk Blooms came to check on him, they found a bouquet of sweet pea and forget-me-not at his bedside, his arm cast to the side, and frost painted on a closed bedroom window.

A winter spirit sat on the old, snow-covered roof of the flower shop on the corner, his knees pulled up to his chest and his head buried in his arms as he cried by himself. Despite the past three hundred years of his life, he had never felt this alone—not even when Hiccup had forgotten him. He cried for his mortal love and his broken heart and was too preoccupied with his sorrow to notice the footsteps creeping behind him.

“Hey there, Frostbite,” a familiar voice said, grabbing his attention. Jack whirled around to see a lanky, auburn haired, young man with freckles dotting his face like stars in the night sky and eyes as green as a forest. The man gave him a lopsided grin filled with crooked teeth that never saw braces and a youthfulness that hadn’t been seen in decades. The other man was clad in deep green and gave off the aroma of flowers and new life—sort of like spring.

“Did you miss me?”

Jack got to his bare feet and stumbled forward a bit, not believing his eyes, before lunging at the other spirit, enveloping him in a hug that had been held back for a lifetime. Jack planted a plethora of kisses upon his lover’s face, each one affirming that the boy was real. Every peck was greeted with beautiful melodious chuckle that Jack had missed so dearly and the spirit of winter wrapped his arms around the spirit of spring’s waist, elated and content for the first time in forever.

“Welcome back, Hiccup.”

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo! I'm actually really glad this is done it just took soooo long to write, so hopefully that paid off in the end!  
> If it was a little unclear, the reason HIccup stopped believing in Jack was because he grew up, but when he grew old he reverted back to a child-like state so he remembered Jack again. (I'm pretty sure I ended up making that clear but you know, just in case)  
> Also, you can probably tell but I have absolutely NO experience with flower arrangement and I actually learned about flower meanings from a website called thelanguageofflowers[dot]com (with a bit of cross referencing of course). If you want to get my intended meanings for some of the flowers that Jack left Hiccup, but didn't really explain, you should look there! C:  
> And as a final note, yes I'm very aware that Hiccup is usually placed as a reincarnated spirit of autumn which definitely makes sense in the context of a lot of aus and fics, but since this is a flower shop au, I decided that Hiccup as the spirit of spring would make a lot more sense! Plus, he's reincarnated=new life!  
> I think that's all, so thank you for reading this far! Feedback would be super appreciated! u v u


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